Resurrection | Shota Aizawa

Chapter 16

Third person pov

They make it back to the apartment just before the bottom fell out of the sky and it started pouring. The dark, roiling clouds had come out of essentially nowhere, racing in over their heads and overshadowing the sun. Hiroki had seen it as more of a challenge than anything else, grabbing Shota's hand in his and taking off dead sprint down the street to try and beat the sudden turn in the weather. Aizawa had been helpless to refuse, no matter how silly it felt. He didn't mind at all.

Life with Hiroki was new and raw and he didn't know how to deal with it. These feelings were something he was only vaguely acquainted with. He rarely felt them. Warmth did not come easy to a man like Shota Aizawa. It never had, and even now he found himself scrambling. It didn't matter how long or how deeply he'd been in love with Hiroki. This was still so uncharted. The possibility was there, so tangible he could almost reach out and grab it. It was a line he had the option of crossing if he wanted to. He wasn't sure what to do with this information. Such thoughts were a risk. He could drive him away forever. Or, he could have him. Was Shota good enough for that? Did he deserve it? He didn't think so, but he also wasn't sure he could resist.

"The forecast said it was going to be sunny all day!" Hiroki gasped out, struggling to catch his breath in the entry way of Aizawa's-- no, the entry way of their apartment. Shota's fingers flexed slightly, already missing the warm softness of the shorter man's hand in his own. He cleared his throat, hoping his red cheeks weren't noticeable. He was honestly pathetic. A grown man who couldn't control his own emotions. He felt like a teenager all over again, overly giddy and unable to handle his feelings properly. Maybe he had never emotionally matured after Hiroki died. With his luck, that was probably the case.

"Well, the forecast lied." Aizawa said flatly. Hiroki laughed, and Aizawa immediately had to flush. He eyed the man as he pulled off his shoes. He blinked when Hiroki turned to him, eyes full and earnest. Shota could get lost in them if he wasn't careful. Instead, he cleared his throat and glanced away, feeling hot all over. "What?" 

"Take off your scarf." Hiroki demanded, smile widening. Shota's heart did a triple flip and landed in a barrel roll. Something caught in his throat and made him feel like he was about to tumble into a seizure. He knew he shouldn't immediately jump to irrational conclusions, but Hiroki looking at him with such kind eyes, telling him to take off his capture weapon-- for what? God, he had to get his mind out of the fucking gutter. He was going to kill Hizashi for this. This was all his fault.

"Why?" He managed to get the word out with an arch of the brow, his expression neutral. Hiroki clapped his hands together, beaming so brightly Shota felt like he was being blinded.

"We're going to have fun." Hiroki announced proudly. Shota bluescreened. "Have you ever danced in the rain? Because you haven't officially lived until you have!" He was too far gone for this shit right now. He didn't refuse, though, even though he should've. He was reaching up and pulling his scarf up before he even realized what he was doing. Mic was right. Hiroki could tell him to jump and he'd ask how high before his brain could ever hope to catch up.

He knew he was in too deep. Aizawa couldn't stop himself from falling deeper and deeper into this hole that he'd never really gotten himself out of to begin with. Now it was worse, however. He could tell. Hiroki Akisuka was a magnetic being and he was too weak to try and pull himself out of his orbit. To him, Hiroki was miles upon miles of endless kindness. And expanse of warm care and charismatic humor that stretched over him like a blanket. A long curtain of silvery white hair and enrapturing eyes. Pale skin, so smooth and clear. Shota wanted to run his hands across it, feel every dip and curve, cherish every smile. Have those eyes focused on him and only him. It was selfish, and irrational. He couldn't help it. He couldn't stop.